


The First Night

by Lyraspace



Category: Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends
Genre: Arguing, Divorce, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:15:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25276042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyraspace/pseuds/Lyraspace
Summary: A boy and his Imaginary Friend meet for the first time.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	The First Night

Being created is a strange affair.

Even before you have a body, there is an emotion.

Swirling feelings, crashing together into even bigger thoughts, until finally, an idea forms:

_It's dark, and I'm scared..._

You don't know whose thoughts those are, but then the moment arrives where you realize they're not yours; they're somebody else's.

Before you're allowed to linger in that revelation, a body finally forms.

The world spins, as nerves and sinews and bones piece themselves together out of the aether.

There's a pull, and then a pop --

The Imaginary Friend finds himself falling as gravity finally takes effect on his newly amassed body. Thankfully, he lands on something soft, hearing the sound of something creaking as he bounces once and comes to a stop.

Opening his eyes for the first time, the first thing the Imaginary Friend notices is that it's dark. He looks around, finding strange shapes and shadows given what little light flowed into the room from the slightly ajar door. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, the shapes became more defined, and soon it became quite clear that someone lived here, whatever that meant.

"Hello."

The Imaginary Friend is startled by the voice in the darkness, jumping back a little before being stopped by something hard and solid, likely the edge of what he was sitting on.

He turns to face the origin of the voice.

What he finds instead is a boy.

The kid seems quite small, with shaggy brown hair that seemed to drape over his equally dark eyes. If he looked carefully, the Imaginary Friend noticed that tears seemed to glisten down his face. Little hands reach up to wipe them away, but it doesn't seem to do much to help.

"Who are you?" The boy whispers.

The Imaginary Friend finds himself at a loss of words. It's impossible to know who you are if you've just been born.

"I..." The Imaginary Friend starts to say, but hesitates. He's surprised by the sound of his own voice; he's never used it before until now. "I dunno. I don't think I have a name. Who are you?"

"I'm Mac," the boy replies. He seems to think for a moment before saying, "What do you think you name should be?"

The Imaginary Friend takes a moment to look down at himself, surprised to find two stubby arms reaching out in front of him. They're a bright shade of blue that's easy to spot in the darkness, just like the rest of his body it seems.

"Well, I'm blue all over," the Imaginary Friend responds, "that's what this color is, right? That could be a good place to start."

"Your name could be Blue," Mac says, "like my blanket. You're the same color." The boy's face falls as tears fill his eyes again.

"I wish I had it right now, but Mommy says I'm too big to sleep with a blanket. And now they're fighting again."

"Blue" was about to ask what Mac was talking about, when the sharp sound of a breaking object causes the both of them to nearly jump out of their skin.

There's raised voices, which turns into full fledged shouting. Another crash, and a slamming sound that seems to pierce the air. A pregnant silence follows, and finally the sound of footsteps stomping closer and closer to Mac's room.

"Blue" rushes to bury himself under the blankets and out of sight as Mac proceeds to do the same, closing his eyes as tightly as he could. The light from the hallway floods over the bed, the shape of a person looming in the space between.

They linger for a second. Two seconds. A sigh.

And slowly, they drag the door shut behind them, enveloping the room in darkness once again.

"Phew!" The Imaginary Friend sighs as he pops his head back out from under the blankets, "That was a close one, huh?"

Mac bursts into tears in response.

Something about that really bothered "Blue". He couldn't comprehend why just yet, but something deep inside of him told him that the idea of this kid he barely knows crying was the worst thing in the world, and that the reason he was here was to keep him from doing that as much as possible.

"Hey, don't worry about it," "Blue" said, wrapping an arm around the boy's shoulders, "Grown ups might say they know everything, but they can be real dummies sometimes, ya know?"

Mac throws his arms around the Imaginary Friend and squeezes him like his life depended on it. He sighs into "Blue's" shoulder, not feeling better, but much more content.

A wave of emotions washes over the Imaginary Friend. Something about this hug just felt so...right.

_Maybe this was what he was made for._

Eventually, the two let themselves fall back onto Mac's pillow, without letting go of each other; it's very comfy, the Imaginary Friend admits.

"Goodnight, Mac," "Blue" yawns, surprised to find himself exhausted. Maybe the process of being created was a lot more tiring than he thought.

"Goodnight, Blue," the boy whispers, already drifting off to sleep.

"Blue" went to sleep that night feeling pretty great, but one thing kept buzzing in the back of his mind; he liked his name, but something about it just felt off. He and Mac could probably come up with an even cooler name than just "Blue".

Then again, that could wait until morning.


End file.
